


Derek Hale, Nuclear Reactor

by kingLATRANS



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Humor, M/M, Oblivious Stiles, Sharing Body Heat, Snowed In, Underage Kissing, Wisconsin - Freeform, mustard is pretty gross, vague frottage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 15:06:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1351843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingLATRANS/pseuds/kingLATRANS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's nine feet of snow outside and Stiles won't stop with the badgering. Yes, it's an unnatural occurrence in California. No, Derek does not care. If only that damned teenager and his gorgeous fucking mouth would go away Derek could get some sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Derek Hale, Nuclear Reactor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [casandean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/casandean/gifts).



> Frankie gave me a prompt a ways back, "sterek having a picnic," or something of the such and i just added some pages to finish it off. They're eating sandwiches on blankets, i hope that's enough.
> 
> Plus kissing is awkward for me to write, and just about anything edging sexual, so i hope this is okay?
> 
> I am currently working on the next chapter to My Empyrean Nirvana, so don't worry about that. It's just coming along slowly at the moment.
> 
> Enjoy!!

"Dude, no. This is not okay. This isn't even natural." Stiles was pacing back and forth in front of the enormous window of Derek's loft.

"It's the middle of winter, Stiles," Derek was laying along his couch, arm over his face and exasperated with the little shit that insinuated himself into Derek's home. "Snow happens in the middle of winter."

"Yeah maybe in Wisconsin, but we're too south and too close to the coast. We get like, I dunno, maybe an inch and a half over the entire course of a year. Not this, never this."

"Stiles,"

"THERE'S NINE FEET OF FUCKING SNOW, DEREK!"

It's true. There is nine feet of snow. And it's still falling. Derek would have been fine on his own. Would've just went back to bed, curled up and slept all day. But Stiles turned up at his door this morning. Apparently it had started snowing around five or four in the morning and just didn't stop. Had gotten up to four inches or something and school got called out because it didn't look like it was gonna stop anytime soon. Stiles' excuse was that he was up for class and didn't know he had off until halfway there, when he got a text alert and something, something.

Derek stopped paying attention. The kid wasn't going anywhere, that much was obvious. He had a way of just talking and wearing you down and Derek really didn't have the energy to hash it out with a seventeen year old. He just wanted to sleep. But he wasn't going to just leave a kid in his place and not keep an eye on him. His stuff. Things. Books. That's actually all he had other than heavy appliances and heavier furniture.

Either way, he wanted to make sure he didn't take any of the books he'd managed to collect. The older ones. The ones more focused on lore and mythics. Derek had a high doubt a high school student would want to read any of Laura's old college books. Derek didn't even really like them all that much, but every once in a while he'll read Vonnegut and remember small things she would always comment on and arguments they'd have.

"Also it's freezing in here. What are you, Jack fucking Frost?" He can see the boy exaggerate hunched shoulders and chills from just under his forearm before retreating.

"Werewolf."

"So what, below zero weather is like a slight breeze to you?"

"Only the slightest."

"Ha ha, you're hilarious-"

"Damn straight."

"Oh my god, I'm gonna die of hypothermia. Can I like, just bring in the blankets from your bed or something?" With the amount of shit that comes out of Stiles' mouth, Derek is honestly surprised that he isn't entered as the definition of Hyperbole. Or obnoxious. He could make both. Yeah.

"Sure,"

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah, and then you can bring all your things over, then I can sign the place over to you, then I can move to Wisconsin with my "lame, old volumes" where people aren't whiny, thin-skinned nerds who take my things." There's a long silence. He wonders if Stiles has died by now, but when he moves his arm from his face Stiles is still there. Such a disappointment. The boy's eyes are narrowed and his pink mouth is wide open. Obviously in disbelief, though the heat visible in his cheeks make an interesting argument.... Anyway. "Just go get the blankets, Stiles."

He must have fallen asleep before he could hear the clanging of feet on the spiral stairs because next thing he knows Stiles is drowning in a huge blanket, clutching the heavy tomes to his chest, and nudging Derek's foot with his knee.

"C'mon man. Scooch. There's enough room on that couch for like, five people or something." Derek chose not to respond in hopes that maybe he'd be left alone in peace. Unfortunately his horoscope for the day is shitty, as Stiles collapses in front of the couch. Dust gets blown up through the air everywhere, enough that he actually sneezes, and he swats at Stiles' head. "Your fault dude. Did you know the vacuum cleaner was invented in 1860? You don't have to live like a mook in a cave. You could live in a tree cleaner than this! I know how to make a tree house. Theoretically, at least."

Derek lowers his arm the rest of the way to glare at him. Maybe, just maybe he'll shut up.

"Gesundheit, bt-dubs. Oh hey, do you have food?" He could feel Stiles' hair brush his arm with the way his head was tilting back, looking curious and casual at him.

"Why would I. Obviously I subsist entirely on oxygen." Stiles huffed with a narrowed expression. Obviously he didn't like it when people got smart with him.

"I'm raiding your fridge."

"Remember Wisconsin."

"I can't believe you're threatening me with Wisconsin, land of cheese cows and Green Bay."

"Right, you'd miss me too much."

"I...totally, would.... not." He finished lamely. Derek could feel the grin on his face stretch wide. "Shut up- hey, mustard or not?"

"Not." Was scoffed out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Stiles' head leaned out from behind the wall halving the kitchen. It was decidedly melodramatic.

"You're disgusting." And he went right back to food. Easy as that.

"You're the one who eats mustard. I fail to see how I'm the monster in this scenario."

"Stilinskis are always right, mark my words."

"By that logic I should keep you out of trouble and away from all the fun murder and mayhem."

"I'm the one involved, so I get in-the-know seniority over him." Stiles harumphed, accenting the clatter of silverware in the sink basin. "Also I'm the one with the magic."

"Yes, well he's the one with the cuffs and power in the real world, so there's always that."

"Touche." Stiles comes sauntering out with a plate in one hand and his mouth on the other's fingers- jesus christ. Derek may be willing to accept that he might have a problem. But he's at the point where he'd like to ignore everything and live in ignorant bliss for once. "You know, it could be a wraith. I've read here and there that they can have influence over weather."

"That sounds fantastic." Air gave a small puff as Stiles dropped to the blankets covering the floor. Derek put his arm back over his face.

Not even a minute later and Stiles is poking at his temple. Here's to hoping that growls will deter him.

"Dude, don't even, you've been out for hours or something." Hoping just doesn't get Derek anywhere, there's enough evidence supporting this and he doesn't know why he won't acknowledge it.

"Book, read. 'Me alone."

"Very articulate, Derek." A finger smooths along one of his brows and it makes his eyelids twitch.

"Sleep," He can feel himself slipping, his senses getting foggy and fuzzy at the same time. That finger stroking his face is practically a lullaby.

"But I need you," Stiles' voice is breathy and almost pleading. It stirs something warm in him and Derek's eyes open immediately. God dammit.

"What?"

"Your blankets do jack shit and you're like a nuclear reactor. Give me radiation poisoning, it's cold as hell." He doesn't even put up a fight when Stiles starts dragging him to the floor by his arms.

Finally he's sitting with the boy nearly making a venn diagram out of his space and Derek... Derek is dealing with some revelations at the current moment. Like how Stiles smells when he's feeling particularly pleased with himself, it's really good. Derek actually might be going into a coma, it's so good. And the ghosts of Stiles' hands on him tingle slightly.

"You have a sandwich to eat and I have a book to read, so wake up come on." He manages to stay pitifully not asleep. God he's a mess. The sandwich is okay though.

He watches Stiles' face while he reads, mostly. Avoids looking at his mouth when he eats. Reads a bit of whatever page is open and clear. He's not sure how much time passes, but that's the gist of it until Stiles closes the book with a huff and sets it on the table with another.

"Didn't find anything?"

"Not a single thing."

"I told you,"

"Yeah but this isn't normal." His head fell to Derek's shoulder, accompanied with a horrific groaning. "Everything sucks and nothing is okay."

"Pretty much." Derek patted Stiles' hair awkwardly. He couldn't help but catch a whiff of something much better than a pleased Stiles. Which really just made him feel tipsy and ashamed. Looking down he saw Stiles staring at... him. Just in general, he thinks. And these are moments that're in Lydia's damned movies. Their eyes meet and the boy goes still, his focus goes to the walls everywhere else but Derek...

Fuck it.

"You've got-" He holds the side of Stiles' face as lightly as possible, leans in and Stiles' attention snaps back to him but doesn't move away so he keeps going. He licks the corner of this loud, hyperbolic obnoxious brat's mouth, and mustard really is disgusting. Stiles opens up on a whimper and Derek presses them together, tasting the rest of wet and hot. It maybe escalates to Stiles sitting in his lap and pulling at his hair while Derek drags short nails under the boy's shirt.

"Thought you didn't like mustard,"

"No, but you made up for that," Both groan as Stiles starts to grind down into him.

"God, that's hot and it really, really shouldn't be,"

The snow can stay for as long as it wants. Derek does not care. Wraiths or whatever can pile up through town and Derek really doesn't care.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope their back-and-forth is worth while. I certainly liked where my head was going with that.


End file.
